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#durow
Chameleon eyebrows Eat my heart out Chain link membranes Focus hard Hear my hands Dial my burdens Entropy and terror Alone never Focus hard Soon it's forever Let me heal I've got plenty of dying to do later
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Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Brawl
i see textures landscapes moving fluid organic alive the sound isn't a song it's a piece of art colors and hues bouncy meshy gradience the sound isn't an album it's a collection of circumferences there is no math being done those who calculate the soul are musicians i don't calculate it's just there the sound isn't a note it's discovery ~,x'~ i hope someday i can show you what i see i gotta say it's a beautiful day here
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Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
organic landscapes {explanation a1}
people **** here I mean they really tear each other apart and if I’m being honest I just don’t care like obviously I’m missing something it seems like everybody’s doing it but I could never get into it I just don’t care I guess I didn’t always feel this way even a year ago I was sympathetic I thought it was a necessary thing sad but needed yeah that’s some ******** people **** here because they like it they like to tear each other apart and I think they know they’re wrong they just don’t care
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Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
people **** here
can you see the noise feel the landscape beneath you smell the chlorine in the dissonance taste the blood in the harmony hear the silence swirl cool and dark pink and gold and brown fluid solids nostalgia for the future i bleed rhythm i sweat melody i spit form i cry syllables i ***** soul i see the helix feel the landscape pressing my temple smell the swing in the waterfall taste the salt of despair hear the art under the dirt muffled but kicking i'm trying to tell you that i don't just hear it i am it liv dessi liv
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
_1
my sadness is a burden until his isn't an option the only time you're nice to me is when he's mean to you you only call me best friend when he doesn't call you you call me crazy well I'm the one who's still with you so maybe you're right
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
friends
there's a decency to ignorance- but it does tend to overstay it's welcome when eating less and weighing more- consider cutting out carbs and toxic masculinity they say love and war are opposing acts- however forgiveness is granted to those unable to distinguish the difference hating things is not a personality trait- but it is a pretty cool pasttime the problem with ignorance is not that you don't know things- it's that you don't know that you don't know things
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
Pure Foster
She wears a push-up bra and I do push-ups but we both **** at economics so it doesn't really matter We've made-up so many times my phone auto-corrects 'I love you' to 'I'm sorry' The problem isn't your hypocrisy, the problem is your conclusions You call me names but I don't call you at all so who's winning I'm sorry
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Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 7:44 PM UTC
Economics
so what it's cliche so what I've said it billions of times I love you and it's like a realization for me every time I see your eyes so what it's cliche I mean it I love you
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Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
I love you
These words written in ink and fear These words meant to tear, build, break, kiss These words that embrace or give hate in misuse Or even create portals you can climb through || So climb through this portal and live in these words Thrive in these lyrics and feast in this verse For the real world's too harsh and these words can be walls A portal A home A poem A song
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Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:50 AM UTC
Words
They asked me if I wanted power They asked me if I wanted money They asked me if I could be happy But I couldn't unless you still loved me
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
Couldn't
4 things that can cut: Love Good-byes You (&) I
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
4
the waves of words so silent wash over us again there is no boat to ride these phrases over to the end but should you need to breathe this love's a vest that you can wear and we can both stay on the crest to feel the ocean air
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
Tidal
Money for you||power for me All of these objects that we didn't need All of these people we weren't meant to lead All of this greed||All of this greed Money for me||power for you I bought the land and the man on it too I bought the sand and the sky and the moon Oh what a view||oh what a view Money for me||power for me I took your power to build my regime I took the people and built a machine Lo what a scene||lo what a scene Money for me||power for you And I flew to space and I sailed on the blue And love I did lose||and love I did lose So this money I hold til I'm sent to my tomb $ 4 U||POWR 4 ME
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
$ 4 U, POWR 4 ME
I need more reason I need more rhyme I need more trophies to validate time I need more money I need more school I need more people to tell me what's cool I need more power I need more laws I need more effect to satisfy cause So apparently: I need more love I need more vision For the Peaks I needed and the reasons I didn't
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
The Peaks We Needed and the Reasons We Didn't
Tomorrow's nonexistent Yesterday can't be redone So I live each and every second Knowing only death's to come I could rewrite holy scripture I could bring words from your lungs But the only thing for certain Is that death is sure to come We can take control of others We can forgive mistakes done But if we don't forgive ourselves We experience more death than one So risks I will partake in Because time can not stay young There is no death for me Because into life I run
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Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Sure To Come
Upon a snowy peak, in eastern Russia, sits Dmitri with his table of God, Graying hairs and skylines, ink is splatter on the paper that Dmitri organized, Only he can see the way it fits together, like a puzzle like the coordinates of a map like the legend, this god, this is God he sings inside his lonely office this God, this is Gods table, Upon a snowy peak in eastern Russia sits a man predicting God and where he is, Lucid dreams of heaven, only one correction made when he awakened from his sleep, Only he can see the way it fits together, like a puzzle like the coordinates of a map like the legend, this god, this is God he screams inside his lonely coffin this God, this is Gods table, Upon a snowy peak, in eastern Russia, sits Dmitri with his table of God
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
The God Table (Dmitri)
How free are you? You wake up every day at a predetermined time that cooperates with your early morning schedule. You hurry up and eat and get ready to make it to school. When you get to school you have X minutes to be ready for class. You run to a class you don't like but apparently need to make it there on time. You sit for X amount of time in a classroom participating in activities and lectures you couldn't care less about. Then, once the bell dismisses you, you run to another class, hoping to make it on time to the exact same situation you just faced. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. When the final bell lets you leave, you run to sports or speech practice or something you do to pad your resume, and work hard at a frivolous activity for X hours. Once the practice is over, you run to your house to do the X hours of homework you have to do for those same classes that you spent X hours suffering through earlier that day. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. You work on a project and hurry to turn it in before an arbitrary deadline. You finally turn it all in or get it done, and go off to do the nightly routine. And as you lay your head down to your pillow, you set your alarm to that same time as every other night, like winding the clock backwards 24 hours to repeat what you just did once again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. How much time was your time. When did you make your own choices? I ask again: How free are you?
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
How Free?
I ask you, Who’s gonna be a prophet when we bought them all out? God I saw your prophet at that festival I think they bought him up a house on the Western Coast Who Want It I see men speaking of love and they’re speaking of god But when those profits are to low they’re on that radio dial Who Want It You Get It There’s static in their melodies, some are moving backwards, You ain’t making breakups songs? You ain’t moving to Calabasas What you thought you were making change? Music about the money in the long run never pays Who’s gonna be the ‘man’ when the money runs out, Who’s gonna be a prophet when we bought them all out, You’re gonna buy those Jordans with that Nike swoosh? I may never be a prophet but at least I ain’t you Who Want It I ask you, Who’s gonna be a prophet man we bought them all out We Want It
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Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
My Sell-Out Prophet
“When will I see you” she breathed, after a day and one more “But what of the plans we promised to” she whispered can a promise not wait a day and one more “Do you wish I stay idle while you move on shifting plans, for I cannot spend life counting and recounting sands” she questioned sure I will be of plans in a day and one more “How do I know, how can you be sure” she sang because a promise is a promise even after a day and one more “Then I will wait ‘til you’re back and your ship hits the shore” she cried I will be home after a day and one more The woman stayed still for a day and one more, but the man who took her heart, never took to that shore. And when hard years later all men returned from the war, She still sang that song “I will love you a day and forevermore”
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
A Day and One More
Ama the monster, an insidious creature of torture and despair, sings in her lair of misdirection and good intentions. And one day Ama wakes up to find herself carrying a child, a ****** mother is she. Ama gives birth to Suzy, and lets the newborn walk the Earth. Suzy, let rest upon your lap the mourner’s fatigue, for whilst it brings but pain upon his shoulders to bear, to your grasp beholds only a wholly indifference. And Suzy Suzy, when you see the man walk weak, offer your services for only a final home does he seek. I sit, the car radio playing a tune of static, Suzy my old friend on my passenger side, humming along. Soon I begin to argue with Suzy, of love and life and where I went wrong. As we drive I know not where we go, but only that we must make it there. Suzy told me I’d hate it when we make it there. I hope to prove Suzy wrong.
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
Suzy (and the static) in Three Parts